Chapter 5 - chapter 5

Chapter 5 (13k words:)

– Amara –

"My name is Amara Black," I introduced myself to the two of them. I would have held out my hand, but it was covered in blood.

"Black?" Daphne asked curiously, tilting her head slightly. "As in…the Ancient House of Black? I didn't know there were any new members in your generation. And I definitely don't recall seeing you at Hogwarts."

Before I could answer, Astoria chimed in, placing her hands on her hips with playful indignation. "Well, obviously, we don't count Malfoy. He's a complete prick."

I paused for a moment, hesitating as an odd pang of emotion briefly gripped my chest. "My…father was Sirius Black."

A sudden quiet fell over the alleyway, interrupted only by distant sirens and the occasional groan from the mercenary who'd been stunned rather than killed. Daphne's eyebrows shot up in surprise, curiosity clearly visible in her expression. Astoria gasped slightly, eyes widening in wonder.

"Sirius Black had a daughter?" Daphne finally asked softly, obviously surprised by my revelation.

I nodded slowly, letting out a gentle sigh as the complicated emotions around my heritage briefly threatened to surface again. "My…family situation is complicated."

Both sisters exchanged intrigued looks, clearly brimming with questions. However, this was neither the time nor the place. 

I gestured to the blood-soaked pavement and the dead mercenaries scattered around us. "Look, ladies, as fascinating as my tragic family drama might be, is this really the conversation you want to have in an alley littered with corpses?"

Astoria's gaze fell to the bodies again, her cheeks immediately turning pale. She shook her head vehemently, blonde curls bouncing anxiously. "No. Definitely not."

Daphne quickly regained her composure, taking charge with practiced confidence. "Right. We absolutely need to get somewhere safe." Her eyes darted cautiously toward the busy street, unease etched into her usually calm features. "If these bastards were bold enough to stage an assassination attempt on us in the middle of broad daylight, our hotel probably isn't safe either."

Astoria's expression quickly shifted from scared to helpless, looking worriedly toward her older sister. "Where do we go, then?"

Both sisters, almost simultaneously, turned their pleading gazes toward me. Wide, hopeful eyes met mine.

I couldn't help but let out a gentle chuckle, shaking my head slightly as I sighed deeply. These two witches were absolute strangers, but I'd just risked my life to save them. Walking away now and leaving them at the mercy of whoever was hunting them would be pretty cold-hearted, even by Gotham's standards. 

Plus, Morgana always said that interesting encounters were rarely coincidences. Powerful, and dark magical beings like us, had a different kind of luck than normal people had. 

"Fine," I finally conceded with a small, playful smirk. "You two can stay at my safe house, at least until things calm down. But I should warn you, I'm not alone there."

Astoria's eyes sparkled with excitement, a broad smile immediately breaking across her pretty face. "Oh! Do you have a roommate?"

I bit back another amused laugh, instead giving her a more serious look. "Not exactly. I live with my mistress and magical mentor. She's extremely powerful, and very dangerous if you cross her—so you'll both need to be respectful."

Astoria immediately nodded eagerly, bubbling with enthusiasm. "Of course! We can totally do that. Right, Daphne?"

Daphne looked slightly more wary, her brow furrowing at the mention of a powerful witch in Gotham. But she clearly recognized it was the safest immediate option, and after a brief hesitation, she offered me a grateful smile and nodded firmly. 

We emerged carefully from the alley into the now empty street. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, getting steadily louder—we didn't have much time. 

Just as I turned to guide the sisters toward the quickest route back to my hidden safehouse, Daphne suddenly stopped, her heels clicking urgently against the cracked pavement.

"Wait!" she called out, glancing back toward their wrecked limousine, which was still smoking where it had crashed headlong into another vehicle. 

My gaze followed hers to the ruined car. I arched an eyebrow, mildly confused. "What is it?" I asked quickly, lowering my voice to avoid drawing attention.

She didn't immediately respond. Instead, Daphne swiftly turned on her heel and dashed back toward the mangled vehicle. My gaze flickered downward involuntarily, appreciating the delightful way her tight skirt hugged her perfectly shaped hips and ass as she hurried away from us.

"Daphne! Wait!" Astoria hissed nervously after her sister, shifting anxiously beside me as she tugged unconsciously at the hem of her own outfit. "What in Merlin's name are you doing? We need to leave—now!"

"One second!" Daphne shot back sharply without turning, urgency evident in her crisp, British-accented voice. Reaching the limo, she quickly leaned inside through one of the shattered windows as she frantically searched for something amidst the broken glass and scattered debris.

I narrowed my eyes slightly in suspicion, my enhanced vision easily picking out what Daphne was retrieving from the limo's luxurious interior.

Two ornate owl masks. They looked almost like masquerade masks, finely crafted with eerie details—large almond-shaped eye holes, sharp curved beaks, intricate feather detailing etched into a smooth, polished ivory material. Even at this distance, my enhanced senses could detect faint traces of magic emanating softly from each mask as well. Some kind of spell to obscure the identity of the wearers most likely.

I glanced sideways toward Astoria, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Owl masks?" I murmured curiously. 

Astoria's gaze quickly darted away from mine. She bit her lower lip, as if debating how much to tell me. "They're—uh—important," she finally whispered, averting her eyes awkwardly. "Family-related stuff..."

I watched Daphne carefully climb back out of the limo, both masks clutched tightly in one hand. Her expression was relieved yet still tense, and she hurried swiftly back toward us. 

Once Daphne returned to our side, she let out a soft sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she handed one mask over to Astoria. "We couldn't leave these behind," she explained quietly, almost apologetically. "If we had… let's just say we'd find ourselves in very serious trouble."

"More trouble than we're already in?" Astoria muttered bitterly under her breath, accepting her mask and quickly slipping it into the small handbag at her side.

Daphne frowned slightly at her sister's sarcasm but didn't respond. Instead, she tucked her own mask safely into the inner pocket of her suit jacket. Her sharp gaze flickered around us, clearly nervous about lingering out in the open.

"I promise we'll explain everything once we're somewhere safe," she said quietly, glancing toward me with an apologetic smile. "Thank you again, Amara—for helping us. Truly."

"Don't mention it," I replied casually, though I found myself oddly curious now about their mysterious owl masks and the evidently secretive, dangerous life these two beautiful witches led. Yet another intriguing mystery added to my rapidly growing list of puzzles to untangle.

But first things first.

I pulled the oversized hood of my dark hoodie up higher, carefully shadowing my face from any security cameras scattered throughout Gotham's crowded streets. I made sure my hoodie was up, covering my face, and told the two of them to keep their heads down as we walked through Gotham to avoid all the security cameras. 

…The heavy warehouse door groaned softly as I pushed it open, stepping aside to let Daphne and Astoria inside. As soon as the two witches entered, Astoria's bright eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

"Oh wow, this place is a lot nicer on the inside than the outside!" Astoria blurted out enthusiastically, her golden curls bouncing lightly as she turned her head around to admire our deceptively luxurious safe house. She practically vibrated with curiosity, clearly surprised by the elegant decor and comfortable furnishings concealed within our rust-covered warehouse.

"Astoria!" Daphne quickly scolded, shooting her younger sister a stern look of reproach. "You don't say things like that to our host! It's rude."

I chuckled softly, waving off Daphne's concern with a casual shrug. "Relax, Daphne, it's fine," I assured her, my lips curving into a small amused smile. "It's meant to look crummy and inconspicuous from the outside. Helps keep curious eyes away. The inside, however, is much more comfortable. We like our creature comforts around here."

Feeling mischievous, I stepped closer to Astoria, my emerald eyes locking playfully onto her wide, startled gaze. Gently, slowly, I reached out with one slender finger and carefully traced it along the smooth softness of Astoria's flushed cheek. Her breath hitched softly at my sudden touch, and I felt her tremble slightly beneath my fingertips.

My succubus side purred in satisfaction at Astoria's innocent reaction, relishing the pleasant thrill running through my veins at her subtle submission. 

I immediately spotted a flash of something in Daphne's icy-blue eyes—perhaps irritation, perhaps jealousy—as she shot me a faintly reproachful glare. Was she annoyed at me for boldly touching her sister—or secretly disappointed that I hadn't touched her first?

Either way, the older Greengrass sister quickly composed herself, straightening her back proudly as she looked away.

She was going to be fun to tease, I could tell…

Before I could press either of them further about exactly what Astoria had meant earlier by calling me their potential new "mistress," a familiar voice echoed softly from above us, dripping with amusement and intrigue.

"Well now," Morgana purred, slowly descending the stairs from the upper level of our warehouse home, each graceful step emphasizing the seductive sway of her generous hips beneath her dress. "I wasn't expecting guests so soon. Who are your lovely new friends, my dear apprentice?"

My heart skipped slightly at her voice, and I felt my breath momentarily catch in my throat as I glanced up toward her. Morgana's presence always had a powerful effect on me, even after spending several days intimately training beneath her careful tutelage. 

Her aura was magnetic, irresistible, a raw blend of authority, beauty, and seductive danger that made my succubus blood sing.

Unlike my more modern choice of tight jeans and a snug black tank top, Morgana always favored dresses or traditional robes, today choosing a skin-tight black dress that hugged her flawless figure perfectly, highlighting every elegant curve of her hips and full breasts.

Daphne and Astoria both froze, mouths falling slightly open, blatantly staring as Morgana gracefully approached. Their eyes slowly wandered over her, lingering appreciatively on her voluptuous curves with zero subtlety, clearly captivated by her almost supernatural allure.

"You have… a twin sister, Amara?" Daphne finally managed to ask breathlessly.

Morgana chuckled softly as she moved closer. "Not quite," she murmured silkily, her gaze sliding over the two beautiful witches standing nervously before her. "Though we do look remarkably similar, don't we?"

Astoria swallowed audibly, her eyes wide and shimmering in fascination as she timidly shifted closer to Daphne's side, glancing uncertainly between me and Morgana.

"My name is Morgana la Fey," she continued smoothly, coming to a graceful stop just a few feet away. "I am Amara's master and mentor. A pleasure to meet you two. Tell me—are you witches from Britain?"

Both sisters instantly stiffened in shock, eyes widening dramatically.

Daphne's mouth fell open further, a sharp gasp of recognition escaping her lips as she sucked in a startled breath. "Morgana… la Fey…?" she repeated quietly.

Astoria, however, lacked Daphne's sense of restraint, immediately erupting into an adorable squeal of excitement as she bounced energetically on her heels. "Holy crap, Daphne! It really is her!" she gushed excitedly, eyes practically glowing as she beamed openly at Morgana. "I have her chocolate frog card back home in my collection and everything! Merlin, this is amazing!"

Daphne turned bright red at her younger sister's unabashed enthusiasm, quickly shooting Astoria another mortified glare. "Astoria—Merlin's sake, calm down!" she hissed urgently. 

Morgana merely laughed. Her emerald eyes sparkled with genuine amusement and warmth as she gracefully stepped forward, gently reaching out to lightly lift Astoria's chin with delicate fingertips, examining the young witch's flushed, eager face.

"A chocolate frog card?" Morgana murmured teasingly. "Well now, it seems my legacy continues even in these modern times..."

Astoria visibly shivered beneath Morgana's touch, completely entranced, and I felt a sudden pang of envy at the sight of Morgana lavishing attention on someone else. Interesting—I'd never felt jealousy this intense before meeting Morgana. 

It was a confusing sensation…

Finally releasing Astoria, Morgana turned her penetrating gaze back toward Daphne, who quickly straightened and recomposed herself beneath that powerful stare, clearly trying—and failing—to conceal her nervous awe.

Morgana's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Tell me, Daphne—was it?—I trust your presence in Gotham, and now my home, comes with quite a fascinating story?"

Daphne nodded hesitantly, clearly overwhelmed by everything that had happened today. "Yes… Lady la Fey," she replied respectfully, carefully measuring her words as she met Morgana's gaze with cautious reverence. "It's… rather complicated, but we'd be grateful for your hospitality."

"Oh, I do love complicated stories," Morgana purred with visible anticipation, casting an approving glance toward me. "And since my dear Amara brought you here, I believe we'll all have plenty of time to explore… everything."

I caught Morgana's meaningful look in my direction, her eyes practically glowing with promise. My pulse quickened, already imagining just how much exploring we could do together.

After all, Morgana always said interesting encounters were rarely coincidences. These two beautiful witches might have stumbled into our lives accidentally, but somehow I suspected fate—or perhaps magic—had greater plans in store for all four of us.

…Daphne and Astoria slipped into the bathroom to clean themselves up. 

Alone now with Morgana, I sank down onto our plush couch, finally allowing myself to relax fully. Morgana smoothly sat beside me, curling her body close against mine.

With a contented sigh, I rested my head back against the cushions as Morgana leaned into me, her warmth radiating softly through her tight black dress. Her slender hand found its way onto my thigh, rubbing slowly and soothingly over the denim fabric of my jeans.

My succubus instincts purred approvingly.

"So," Morgana murmured softly, her voice velvety and seductive as her fingertips gently traced patterns across my thigh, "it seems you've had quite the exciting adventure today, my dear apprentice. You've done well."

Just minutes earlier, Daphne and Astoria had shared their own strange story—explaining their connection to the mysterious organization they belonged to, this "Court of Owls."

According to Daphne, this secret society had secretly controlled Gotham—and much of the world's economy—for centuries. The sisters' own family had joined this powerful society years ago, hoping to leverage its immense resources and influence to cure an ancient family curse that now threatened Astoria's life.

But something had clearly gone horribly wrong today. A jealous rival family within the Court had apparently orchestrated the assassination attempt on them, though neither sister could yet say exactly why they'd been targeted.

Morgana listened attentively to their story, and clearly, she found these new developments deeply intriguing.

"You did very well in saving those two witches, Amara," Morgana praised again. Her fingers gently tightened their hold on my thigh, squeezing possessively as she leaned even closer against my side. "I can tell they are the kind of girls who will be deeply loyal to the future leaders of their coven."

I blinked in surprise, turning my head slightly to look into Morgana's beautiful face. Her choice of words caught my attention immediately. "Coven?" I repeated, curiosity piqued. "Are you saying we're forming one…?"

"It's just a thought for now, my dear apprentice. We'll discuss it in more detail later. But consider this—all of my enemies have united themselves against me, hiding behind their ridiculous Justice League. Perhaps it's time we begin building my own loyal forces. And not just for my revenge, but yours as well…"

The idea intrigued me deeply, sending a thrill of excitement racing down my spine. The thought of forming our own coven—of having loyal, devoted witches like Daphne and Astoria beneath us—was tantalizingly appealing. 

Power, companionship, influence… It was all deeply enticing.

As I mulled over Morgana's intriguing suggestion, her sultry voice suddenly took on a more playful tone. Her hand slid even higher up my thigh, fingers teasing dangerously close to my center. "But tell me, Amara…what else did you think of our beautiful new friends? Beyond mere usefulness, I mean."

My cheeks flushed warmly at her teasing question, a shy smile tugging involuntarily at my lips as I remembered Daphne and Astoria standing shyly before us. "They're both very beautiful," I admitted softly, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks and throat. My heartbeat quickened, desire stirring within me as Morgana continued her gentle caress, slowly driving me wild. "And honestly… who doesn't love gorgeous sisters?" I added with a chuckle, trying—and failing—to sound casual and indifferent.

Morgana laughed softly at my attempted nonchalance. Her eyes sparkled knowingly as she leaned closer still, whispering huskily in my ear. "Oh, those girls certainly seem to share that sentiment. Did you see the way they looked at us, Amara? Like hungry little kittens. Completely entranced. As a succubus," she purred smoothly, her voice like silk as she continued softly stroking my sensitive thigh, "it is natural for you to take many lovers throughout your lifetime. Men, women, mortals, witches… your heart and body will crave them all, in time. And clearly, you're very attracted to beautiful women, my sweet apprentice."

I shivered slightly beneath her knowing words, feeling vulnerable yet deeply aroused by her frank acknowledgment of my desires. "Obviously," I admitted quietly, cheeks burning brightly as Morgana gave my thigh another possessive squeeze, sending delightful tingles racing upward through my body.

Then, she tilted her head slightly, studying my reaction carefully as she spoke again. "And what about this hero you encountered—Nightwing, was it?" Morgana teased gently, raising an amused eyebrow. "The way you described him after your brief encounter revealed much more than you probably intended. Tall, strong, handsome—muscles for days, I believe you said?"

My blush intensified, heat spreading rapidly through me as Morgana continued to tease. I quickly raised my gaze to hers, seriousness flickering through my expression as I shook my head slightly. "Look, Morgana—I won't lie, he's incredibly good-looking. And yes, he's built like a Greek god. But you don't need to worry about my loyalty. I'm not going to turn on you and jump into bed with some arrogant superhero."

Morgana's eyes softened immediately at my earnest declaration. Her teasing smirk faded into a gentle, grateful smile as she reached up tenderly to cup my cheek in her warm hand. "Thank you, Amara," she whispered softly. "Your loyalty is deeply appreciated. But honestly—that isn't exactly what I was getting at."

I blinked in mild confusion, tilting my head questioningly at her cryptic words. "Then…what exactly do you mean, Morgana?"

She chuckled softly again, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to my forehead before meeting my curious stare once more. "What I mean, my sweet apprentice, is that not every hero is entirely incorruptible. Even the noblest hearts can be tempted by the right person, under the right circumstances…"

"You want me to try and corrupt him? To lure him away from Batman?" I asked, blinking in genuine surprise. A part of me seriously doubted this was even remotely possible, thanks to my [Cursed knowledge]. Everything I remembered screamed that trying to sway someone as idealistic and dedicated as Nightwing was futile.

But Morgana merely offered me one of her sly, knowing smiles as she decided to turn this into yet another of her irresistible teaching moments. "Never ignore even the faintest possibility, if granted the opportunity, my sweet apprentice," she whispered silkily.

My breath caught sharply as her hand slid upward along my thigh, gliding beneath the waistband of my jeans with practiced ease. My heart raced with anticipation as she smoothly unbuttoned them, the soft hiss of the zipper lowering sending a rush of heat straight between my thighs.

Then her fingers slipped inside my panties, finding my warm, already-damp pussy instantly. I gasped helplessly, my eyelids fluttering as Morgana's skilled fingertips began teasing me, gently rubbing slow circles around my swollen clit.

"Oh fuck," I moaned softly, unable to stop myself from instinctively rolling my hips upward into her touch, craving more.

Morgana chuckled lightly at my reaction, clearly pleased by my eager response. She leaned closer, whispering teasingly against my ear. "Now then, my apprentice… What do you think we should do about this Court of Owls? They did just try to kill your beautiful new witches, did they not?" She emphasized her words by pressing firmly against my clit, rubbing small, insistent circles. 

Pleasure surged sharply through me, making coherent thought suddenly very challenging. I squirmed beneath her ministrations, my thighs trembling with desire. "They… ahh… they need to pay," I finally managed to gasp out, voice shaky as Morgana continued her relentless torment. My mind struggled to focus even as pleasure rippled through me. "Nobody hurts my girls and gets away with it…"

Morgana's smile widened in approval, her emerald eyes darkening with seductive delight. "Exactly right, my lovely Amara," she purred softly, rewarding me by slipping two slender fingers deeper inside me, making my back arch sharply as another desperate moan spilled from my lips. 

Her skilled fingers sank deeper inside me, gently exploring my wet inner folds. My hips bucked slightly in response with my thighs trembling as pleasure built rapidly within my core. Yet Morgana deliberately held back—her fingertips stopped short of penetrating too deeply, gently pressing against my untouched hymen. 

She'd explained carefully during our intimate lessons that my virginity was special, magically potent, and would need to remain intact for an important future ritual. 

She smiled wickedly as she watched the lustful frustration ripple across my face. Her identical, gorgeous features leaned in slowly, lips brushing softly against mine in a teasing caress. Before I could even process the delicious sensation, her fingers started moving faster inside me, skillfully massaging and rubbing just the right places.

"Oh, fuck…Morgana…" I whimpered softly, breathlessly, my voice trembling as pleasure surged intensely through my pussy. Morgana took my moans as an invitation, pressing her soft lips fully against mine, capturing me in a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue teased playfully into my mouth as her fingers pumped relentlessly faster, steadily pushing me closer to the edge of my climax.

I moaned deeply against her lips, hips grinding helplessly into her hand as I finally exploded around her fingers, cumming hard and soaking straight through my panties and jeans! 

I felt the slick warmth of my arousal pooling rapidly beneath me, staining the couch fabric beneath our entwined bodies. My thighs shook as I rode out my orgasm, fingers tightly gripping Morgana's shoulders to keep from collapsing completely.

With a soft, satisfied chuckle, Morgana gently pulled her wet fingers from between my thighs, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust as she slowly brought her glistening fingers up to her mouth. She parted her lips slowly, deliberately sucking my juices from her fingers with an audible moan of appreciation.

"Mmm," she purred, tongue flicking seductively over her fingertips to catch every last drop. Her voice was dripping with promise as she whispered huskily against my flushed cheek. "That was just a small teaser, my dear apprentice. Tonight, you and I will thoroughly enjoy ourselves with those two beautiful blonde sisters. But remember—work must always come before pleasure." She gently cupped my chin. "First, we must strategize carefully about this 'Court of Owls.'"

– Nightwing –

"Thanks again for agreeing to help out on this one, Raven," Nightwing called softly to his companion as they patrolled Gotham from above. Raven flew effortlessly alongside him, her violet cloak billowing gently around her gorgeous figure, while Nightwing leapt from rooftop to rooftop with practiced ease.

The sun had only just set, bathing Gotham in deepening shadows. Nightwing knew better than anyone that the coming darkness meant an inevitable rise in crime, but tonight, his focus remained tightly locked on a single, dangerous target.

The witch who called herself Amara.

Dick still remembered when he'd stumbled across her robbing that bank. At the time, he'd had no idea she posed such a serious threat. Even if she was Morgana's apprentice—allegedly. 

Back then, she'd seemed almost playful—dangerous, certainly, but no more sinister than any of Gotham's other costumed criminals. Hell, he'd found himself briefly entranced by her charm and impossible beauty, an embarrassing fact he preferred not to dwell on.

But recent developments had shattered that illusion completely.

Batman had shared disturbing intel earlier in the day—information sourced directly from none other than the Penguin himself. Nightwing knew Penguin wasn't the type to exaggerate threats unnecessarily, especially when seeking Batman's assistance. According to Penguin's terrified men, Amara had performed a bloody, ruthless ritual involving human sacrifice, mercilessly killing three helpless victims.

He shook his head sharply, pushing away his lingering disbelief. The image of Amara's stunning face and seductive smile felt impossible to reconcile with the monstrous acts attributed to her.

But if his years of crime fighting had taught Nightwing anything, it was never to underestimate a villain just because they appeared beautiful or charming. Gotham was practically infamous for gorgeous femme fatales—dangerous, alluring women who used their looks to disarm and destroy.

He couldn't afford to be fooled himself.

Raven drifted silently closer. "It's fine, Dick," she finally said softly, breaking the tense silence between them. Her violet eyes glanced briefly downward toward Gotham's shadowed streets, distant and thoughtful. "Honestly, I'm glad to be out of the Tower in Jump City right now. Too much drama."

Nightwing winced slightly at her remark, guilt briefly flickering through his heart. He knew Raven's empathic powers made the Titans' internal tensions nearly unbearable at times. "Yeah," he sighed regretfully, offering Raven an apologetic smile. "Sorry about all that. I should have reached out sooner—given you a chance to get away from all that."

Nightwing sighed quietly to himself as he launched smoothly into another rooftop leap, the lights of Gotham's grimy skyline racing by beneath him. 

He was deeply grateful for Raven's presence tonight, though part of him still felt awkward about reaching out to her in the first place. But she hadn't hesitated for a second when he'd contacted her. 

In fact, Raven had seemed almost relieved to leave Jump City behind, and he couldn't exactly blame her.

Things back home with the Titans had spiraled completely out of control lately, and Dick knew full well he was largely to blame. It still stung like hell, and he felt another bitter wave of embarrassment and anger churn inside his chest as the memories flooded back.

He and Starfire had seemed so perfect together at first—like something straight out of a fairytale. An insanely beautiful, uninhibited alien warrior-princess from another world, vibrant and passionate in everything she did, had somehow fallen completely in love with him, a human vigilante with no special powers beyond training and determination. She was vivacious and fun, playful and sexual in ways he could barely keep up with sometimes.

But what he'd considered a dream come true had quickly turned into a humiliating nightmare.

It had happened only a few nights ago—returning early from a solo patrol he'd walked into Starfire's bedroom without knocking, intending to surprise her. Instead, he was the one who'd been thoroughly blindsided.

Starfire hadn't even bothered locking the door. Why would she? Her culture on Tamaran didn't recognize shame or embarrassment around sexuality. But Dick certainly did.

Starfire sprawled out naked atop her massive bed, moaning enthusiastically beneath three equally naked men—each of them strangers to Dick. She'd clearly been enjoying every second, completely unconcerned by his shocked entrance. The look of pure startled horror on his face apparently hadn't even registered as she rode one of her lovers eagerly, another man kneeling behind her to roughly grab her hips and thrust deep into her tight ass, while the third enthusiastically fucked her waiting mouth.

Dick had stood frozen in the doorway, heart shattered and face burning with humiliation, unable to tear his gaze away from the graphic spectacle of his girlfriend being thoroughly used and fucked senseless right in front of him. Finally noticing him, Starfire merely paused long enough to flash him a confused, completely unashamed smile around the cock between her lips.

"Oh! Hello, Dick! Would you like to join in?" she'd offered cheerfully as she briefly pulled her mouth free, seemingly oblivious to his stunned heartbreak. "There is plenty of room for more!"

He hadn't bothered replying, feeling sick as he immediately turned and stormed out of the tower.

Their breakup had been explosive and messy after that, the resulting emotional fallout tearing the Titans nearly apart. Everyone had chosen sides. Cyborg was furious on Dick's behalf, while Beast Boy had awkwardly sympathized with Starfire, claiming cultural misunderstandings made it unfair to judge her too harshly. The other members were all divided as well. The resulting tension and arguing quickly made the tower nearly unbearable to live in.

Raven, however, had refused to choose any side at all. But as an empath, the negative emotions swirling around Titans Tower were too overwhelming for her mental health. 

When Nightwing contacted her about hunting Morgana and Amara in Gotham, she'd practically jumped at the chance to leave Jump City behind for a while.

Dick knew it wasn't exactly mature to run away from the wreckage of his relationship and his broken pride, but he'd genuinely needed some time and space to recover. Returning to Gotham had been an easy choice. 

Tracking down Amara and Morgana offered a convenient distraction from his humiliation and hurt pride.

"You're sure you're okay helping out tonight, Raven?" he finally asked, quietly breaking the long silence stretching between them.

Raven's gaze flickered briefly toward him as she nodded softly. "I told you, Dick, I'm fine," she reassured him gently, her voice soft yet firm. "Truthfully, it's better for me to be away right now. The emotional atmosphere at the tower is... exhausting."

He winced slightly, feeling another pang of guilt as he nodded in understanding. "Yeah," he sighed again regretfully, offering her an apologetic smile as he sprinted along a narrow rooftop edge before easily vaulting to the next building. "I'm sorry about all the drama I've caused."

Raven shook her head softly, the edges of her violet cloak rippling gracefully as she drifted silently beside him. "Don't apologize. You can't control how you feel. And for what it's worth, I do understand your anger and hurt. You have every right to feel betrayed and humiliated."

Dick was pretty sure that Raven had never had a boyfriend, or maybe even a girlfriend before, but the sheer venom in her voice when she spoke told him but she was speaking from experience. 

– Daphne –

Daphne sat quietly in the steaming water of the spacious bathtub, her pale skin flushed bright pink from a combination of warmth, embarrassment, and something else she was unwilling to admit. Across from her, Astoria lounged naked, relaxed, her long golden curls dampened from the heat and clinging enticingly to the smooth curve of her shoulders. Daphne had always known her younger sister was beautiful, but seeing her naked like this—suddenly intimate and vulnerable—left Daphne strangely flustered.

As they gently washed away the tension from their harrowing day, a shimmering mist appeared beside the bath. Daphne froze, her eyes narrowing warily as the mist swiftly coalesced into something more solid—a magical projection hovering clearly in the steamy air.

"This must be Morgana's doing," Daphne murmured softly, breath hitching slightly. Astoria glanced up curiously and let out a soft gasp of surprise.

The screen showed Amara and Morgana sitting together on a plush sofa, intimately close. Even from the projection's angle, Daphne immediately appreciated how stunning both women were. They looked strikingly similar, sharing dark hair, flawless features, and perfect bodies.

Astoria leaned forward in fascination, her eyes locked onto the image. Daphne opened her mouth to say something cautionary—but the words died abruptly on her lips as Morgana's slender hand slid teasingly down Amara's jeans.

Daphne's cheeks flamed crimson. "Merlin's beard," she whispered, utterly transfixed as Morgana's fingers clearly began stroking Amara's pussy beneath the tight denim. The younger witch arched her hips upward, lips parting in obvious pleasure.

"That's so fucking hot," Astoria moaned softly from across the tub, breaking Daphne's stunned reverie.

Daphne's eyes widened further when she saw Astoria slide her own hand beneath the water, clearly beginning to pleasure herself openly right in front of her. Daphne's breath caught sharply in her throat. Was Astoria seriously masturbating right there, with her sister only feet away?

Astoria caught Daphne's gaze, a small, mischievous smile playing on her flushed lips. She didn't slow her movements—if anything, her breathing grew heavier, her expression daring Daphne to object.

Yet Daphne found no voice to protest. Her thighs clenched involuntarily, tingling warmth spreading rapidly between her legs. Despite the taboo situation, or perhaps because of it, she couldn't deny her own arousal. Daphne's legs moved subtly beneath the hot water, rubbing gently together, sending delightful sparks of pleasure through her body. Her feet brushed against Astoria's legs, causing both sisters to gasp quietly at the sudden contact.

– Morgana –

Morgana couldn't help but smirk to herself. That mirror spell went both ways. She allowed for the Greengrass sisters to enjoy the show of her and her apprentice. And Morgana also got to see what those two—obviously very pent up pureblood women—would do when shown such an arousing live show as well.

And they didn't disappoint. The younger one, Astoria, had cum at almost the same time as Amara had, and the older one, Daphne, was looking disappointed that the show ended so soon. Morgana was sure she would have started pleasuring herself had Morgana pushed Amara for another round. 

Those girls would definitely be good practice for her lovely apprentice Amara later.

But all good things would come in time.

Morgana's eyes glittered with amusement as she watched Amara nervously straighten herself, slender fingers fussing with her dark hair and tugging self-consciously at her jeans. The flustered blush that lingered so prettily upon her apprentice's flawless porcelain cheeks brought a soft smirk of satisfaction to Morgana's lips. Amara was beautifully oblivious to the delicious spectacle she'd just unknowingly put on for their lovely new guests.

As the sound of delicate footsteps echoed lightly down the stairs, Morgana casually reclined against the plush couch, adopting an expression of composed elegance. Her gaze swept appreciatively toward Daphne and Astoria as the sisters reentered the lavishly appointed main room. Both young witches looked beautifully flushed, their cheeks and throats still glowing faintly pink, eyes carefully avoiding direct contact.

Ah, yes—those innocent faces couldn't fool her for a single moment.

For now, however, she merely smiled warmly as Daphne and Astoria approached shyly, clearly uncertain about how best to behave in Morgana's presence.

"Feeling refreshed, my darlings?" Morgana inquired lightly, voice smooth and welcoming. "I trust you found our bathing chambers... satisfactory?"

Astoria blushed brightly, blonde curls bouncing as she quickly nodded, her gaze darting furtively toward Amara before hastily looking away again. "Very much, Mistress Morgana," she murmured softly, visibly flustered. "Thank you."

Daphne's eyes flickered briefly to Morgana. "Your hospitality is greatly appreciated," she said politely, though her voice carried a faint tremor.

"Think nothing of it," Morgana purred soothingly, allowing her gaze to slide meaningfully between the two sisters, carefully enjoying their shy embarrassment. "After all, we witches must always support one another—particularly when dark forces conspire against us."

Daphne visibly tensed at Morgana's reminder. "Yes... You're right. The Court of Owls." Her tone became colder, bitter resentment evident beneath her carefully controlled voice. "They'll undoubtedly try again. We'll have targets on our backs as long as they believe we're vulnerable."

Astoria shivered slightly, eyes widening with renewed anxiety as she stepped instinctively closer to Daphne's side. Her slender fingers tightened nervously around her older sister's arm, clearly seeking reassurance.

Morgana rose gracefully from the sofa. Slowly, she approached the sisters. 

"You need not fear," Morgana murmured soothingly. "You are both now under my personal protection—and that of my powerful apprentice, Amara." She smiled warmly toward the still-blushing Amara, whose emerald eyes widened in surprise and pride at her mentor's praise. "We will handle this threat for you. Swiftly and decisively."

Daphne's eyes flickered briefly in confusion, her head tilting questioningly. "But Lady Morgana, surely we cannot simply hide here indefinitely. The Court—"

Morgana silenced her gently with a single graceful gesture, shaking her head softly as amusement curved her full lips once again. "Oh, hiding was never part of my plan, my dear. In fact, Amara and I have devised a rather... bold approach."

Astoria's curiosity instantly piqued, her expression lighting up with excitement. "Bold? How?"

Morgana allowed a slow, wicked smile to spread across her lips as she turned slightly toward her apprentice with a knowing glance. "Tonight, the two of us shall attend this Court of Owls meeting—disguised as you and your lovely sister. We will find who tried to kill you both, and eliminate them in your place."

– Amara –

I tugged uncomfortably at Daphne's perfectly tailored skirt, shifting my hips slightly in the unfamiliar fabric. It hugged me far tighter than I was used to, restricting my movements, but I had to admit, it did wonders to accentuate the generous curves of my ass and thighs. Daphne was slightly slimmer than me, and her blouse strained slightly at my full breasts, buttons barely managing to contain them. Beneath the owl mask obscuring my face, I glanced sideways at Morgana with mild amusement.

My powerful mentor had managed to squeeze herself into Astoria's clothing—quite a feat, considering Morgana was taller and decidedly curvier than the younger Greengrass sister. Her black skirt clung enticingly to the generous swell of her hips, and the snug blouse she'd borrowed from Astoria stretched tautly across Morgana's ample chest, drawing considerable attention to her cleavage. 

In addition to the disguises, Morgana had used a quick spell to transform our raven-black hair to shades of shimmering platinum blonde, perfectly mimicking the Greengrass sisters' hair colors. With these alterations and the enchanted owl masks securely obscuring our faces, I doubted even Daphne and Astoria themselves could have told us apart at a glance.

"Ready?" Morgana murmured quietly, a sly smile curling her full lips beneath the ivory owl mask.

I nodded confidently, smoothing my borrowed skirt once more. "Let's do this."

Together, we descended carefully into Gotham's shadowy underbelly—the city's extensive, notoriously labyrinthine sewer system. The Court of Owls might secretly be Gotham's most influential elite, but their choice of meeting location left much to be desired. 

Richest people in the city and they picked the sewers?

Ugh.

Then again, no one sane wandered into Gotham's sewers willingly.

I hadn't been in Gotham for very long, but every single major city always has that absurd rumor that there were crocodiles in the sewers. 

Well—in Gotham that isn't a rumor. It's a fact.

As we ventured deeper, the smell hit me first—a pungent, unpleasant blend of stagnant water, rotting garbage, and something disturbingly metallic. Morgana walked close beside me. 

We soon approached the first guard. A towering figure standing silently in the shadows.

The guard wore a black owl-themed costume, complete with a black owl mask that obscured most of his features. He was decked out with blades and guns all over his costume as well.

My magically enhanced senses immediately recoiled from the man. For lack of a better word—he felt dead. 

As we passed silently, Morgana leaned subtly toward me, her voice a bare whisper beneath the owl mask. "He's some sort of undead servant," she murmured softly, her tone thoughtful yet intrigued. "Fascinating. Animated corpses bound by dark magic. This 'Court of Owls' is clearly dabbling in dangerous necromancy."

There was a sudden transition from the oppressive, dank tunnel into something entirely unexpected. Morgana and I stepped out of the darkened corridor into a grand, dimly-lit amphitheater. My eyes widened slightly beneath the intricate owl mask as I took in the sheer opulence that greeted us.

Rows of plush seats curved gracefully downward, filled with Gotham's richest and most powerful, every last one obscured behind identical ivory owl masks. Gentle murmurs and quiet laughter echoed softly around the chamber as these masked elites exchanged pleasantries and hushed gossip.

The men were impeccably dressed, each suit clearly tailored by the finest designers, complemented with expensive watches and cufflinks glittering under the soft light. The women were equally extravagant, draped in exquisite dresses that hugged every alluring curve, necks and wrists adorned with diamonds and gems that would've made royalty envious. It was clear the Court of Owls wasn't merely a secret society, it was Gotham's highest tier of wealth, influence, and dangerous ambition.

I felt a flicker of amused irony. Here we were, deep underground, surrounded by fetid sewer tunnels and undead guards, yet these people couldn't resist flaunting their staggering wealth. Rich elites loved nothing more than to remind each other of their superiority. Though, I reflected briefly, I wasn't exactly poor myself, not with all that gold Morgana was safeguarding for me.

I mentally sighed, briefly distracted by thoughts of the fortune I had inherited from Sirius. Morgana had warned me sternly that goblins—those cunning, greedy bankers—could never be fully trusted. At some point, I really needed to figure out what to do with all that money. Perhaps investing it safely away from the goblins' grasp was a smart move, especially now that I'd embraced a life beyond Wizarding Britain's restrictive confines—at least until I went back for my revenge. 

My wandering thoughts were interrupted abruptly when one masked figure stood up prominently from a raised dais at the center of the amphitheater. The room immediately fell silent as he spread his arms grandly, commanding attention without needing to raise his voice.

"Esteemed members of the Court," his deep voice resonated clearly across the amphitheater, carrying easily to every corner, "I hereby declare this annual gathering officially begun."

Polite applause rippled around the chamber, carefully restrained yet enthusiastic enough to signal sincere respect. Morgana leaned subtly toward me, voice barely above a whisper. "Look carefully, my apprentice. One of these wealthy vultures tried to kill our pretty new friends. Stay vigilant."

I nodded discreetly, scanning the masked crowd with narrowed eyes beneath my ivory owl mask. The gentle fluttering in my chest intensified—the thrill of potential confrontation, the seductive dance of danger, stirring my succubus nature eagerly to life.

The speaker continued smoothly, adjusting elegant cufflinks as he addressed the masked gathering. "As tradition dictates, before we move onto matters of global influence, let us first address internal disputes. Does anyone wish to formally raise grievances at this time?"

An older woman rose dramatically from the opulent seating, gold silk shimmering gaudily over her ample curves. Every inch of her screamed "wealthy matriarch," from the mountains of tasteless jewelry dripping from her neck and wrists, to the glittering diamonds practically swallowing her pudgy fingers. She clearly wanted to ensure every eye in the room lingered on her for as long as possible.

"I demand," she proclaimed loudly, her shrill voice grating beneath the ivory owl mask, "that House Greengrass be removed from this Court at once—and exterminated!"

My eyebrows rose sharply behind my own mask at her bold declaration.

"Exterminated?" echoed the masked leader of the assembly, his voice a neutral monotone. "On what grounds do you make this extraordinary request?"

The woman gestured grandly, trembling with what she undoubtedly considered righteous indignation. "They nearly exposed our very existence to the ignorant masses of Gotham today, flaunting magic openly in broad daylight! We simply cannot risk our secrecy by allowing such recklessness to continue!"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to sigh audibly. Whoever she was beneath that tacky mask and glittering gold gown, this woman was either staggeringly dumb or unbelievably arrogant. Probably both.

Still, at least we knew now precisely who had orchestrated the earlier attempt on Daphne and Astoria's lives. Her words might as well have been a confession.

The masked leader turned slowly toward Morgana and me, his unseen gaze heavy with judgment. "The accusation has been made clearly and publicly," he intoned solemnly. "How does House Greengrass respond to these charges?"

A tense silence settled over the grand amphitheater, hundreds of concealed faces turning curiously toward us, eagerly awaiting our response. The elites loved nothing more than juicy drama, it seemed.

Morgana spoke first, voice ringing elegantly clear through the crowded space. "We plead not guilty, of course. This absurd accusation is utterly baseless. We have no idea what nonsense this foolish woman is blathering about."

The gold-clad woman gasped theatrically, visibly shaking with outrage. "Lies!" she shrieked indignantly. "You were both nearly murdered in broad daylight, in full view of dozens of witnesses! Do not insult our intelligence with your obvious falsehoods!"

Around us, the murmurs grew louder, amused whispers rippling through the masked assembly. Clearly, this evening's entertainment was proving delightfully scandalous.

Before Morgana could respond, I took a confident step forward, my borrowed heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I straightened to my full height, tilting my masked face dismissively toward the fuming woman. Adopting my best condescending, elite bitch voice, I let disdain drip thickly from my words. "And how exactly would you be so intimately aware of the details surrounding today's attack?" I asked sharply, my tone frigidly polite. "One might suspect, from your vehement certainty, that you yourself had some involvement in orchestrating such a clumsy, pathetic attempt on our lives." I allowed a slight smirk to curl at my lips beneath the owl mask, continuing before she could recover from my accusation. "But let me assure you all, dear Court—my sister and I were never in any real danger. Do you genuinely believe that two witches of our caliber would be threatened by a handful of incompetent mercenaries? Their sad little assassination attempt was foiled easily. They were weak, worthless fools—hardly worthy of our time." My dismissive laughter echoed softly through the chamber. "Frankly, the only genuine threat to our secrecy seems to be you, madam," I finished sweetly, my voice dripping venomous amusement. "Your hysterical outburst just now is far more suspicious and incriminating than any imagined misstep of ours."

The older woman visibly trembled with barely contained rage, gold jewelry rattling with every furious shiver of her pudgy limbs. "How dare you imply such things about me!" she screeched indignantly. "I am merely a concerned citizen looking out for the interests of this noble Court!"

I chuckled lightly, mockingly shaking my head in exaggerated pity. "Of course you are, darling," I purred patronizingly, letting contempt radiate openly from my stance. "Just an innocent, concerned citizen with remarkably convenient knowledge of today's attack."

Several amused titters rippled through the crowd, masked heads swiveling eagerly back and forth between me and my sputtering opponent. They were clearly enjoying every deliciously scandalous moment of this confrontation.

"The Powers family's accusations have been heard," the masked leader's voice carried smoothly through the chamber, "but their request for extermination is denied."

The furious woman in gold recoiled sharply, her angry gasp audible through the entire amphitheater. Even behind her ivory mask, I imagined I could see her flustered disbelief.

The Powers family, hmm? I mused inwardly, a small, satisfied smirk curling my lips beneath my mask. It seemed we finally had a name to attach to our enemies.

The leader turned his attention back to Morgana and myself, his masked face unreadable as he regarded us both.

"However," he continued slowly, "the Court itself has questions for you two."

Morgana tilted her head gracefully, her voice deceptively pleasant. "And what questions might those be?"

The leader chuckled softly, a rich, amused sound that sent uneasy murmurs rippling around the gathered elites. His masked gaze was sharp, piercing even beneath the shadowed eye holes as he addressed us directly. "Did you truly believe we could be so easily infiltrated?" he asked mildly, the simple question dripping with cool mockery.

Gasps of shock echoed around us, filling the lavish amphitheater with urgent whispers and frightened murmurs. I scowled slightly behind my mask, irritation briefly flickering across my expression.

Well, damn. So much for subtlety. I sighed quietly. "Guess we got caught already," I grumbled beneath my breath.

Beside me, Morgana merely chuckled softly, clearly unconcerned by this sudden revelation. Without hesitation, she gracefully removed her ivory owl mask, allowing her magical disguise to dissolve in an instant. Her platinum-blonde hair rapidly shifted back to its original glossy raven-black hue, and her full lips curled into a wicked, amused smirk.

Following her example, I shrugged off my own mask, letting the magical glamour fade away. A slight tingle washed over me as my silky black hair cascaded freely down my shoulders once more, and I lifted my emerald gaze boldly to meet the surprised stares of the masked Court members around us.

The leader visibly stiffened as he stared at Morgana's unmistakable visage, his voice trembling ever so slightly when he finally spoke again. "Morgana le Fay," he murmured nervously, a reverent hush falling instantly across the grand amphitheater.

Awed murmurs swiftly filled the silence, masked heads turning sharply toward us as Morgana's infamous name rippled like wildfire through the gathered elites. 

Their nervousness was palpable.

Finally, the leader found his voice again. His masked gaze shifted toward me, openly curious and cautious. "And who, precisely, are you?" he asked carefully, head tilted in thoughtful contemplation. "Her daughter? Sister?"

I met his hidden eyes directly, my own expression calm and confident as I answered smoothly. "I am Amara of House Black from Britain," I declared clearly, pride coloring my words. "Mistress Morgana is my mentor. I am her apprentice."

The leader paused briefly. "House Black," he mused aloud, clearly intrigued. "As I recall, the Court once reached out to your illustrious family long ago—only to be refused outright. They declared themselves above working with filthy Muggles."

Yep, that sounded about right from what Sirius told me of our family.

I shrugged casually, maintaining an air of cool indifference. "Well, everyone from my family who refused your invitation is dead now," I remarked lightly.

"Heh, so they are," the leader agreed quietly, amusement evident in his voice. After another thoughtful pause, he slowly turned back toward Morgana, inclining his masked head respectfully. "In truth, the Court would be honored to count such an illustrious and powerful witch as yourself among our ranks—provided, of course, that you and your talented apprentice pass our traditional test first."

Morgana raised a single elegant eyebrow, openly skeptical as she rolled her eyes impatiently. "And just what sort of 'test' would this be, exactly?" she asked dryly.

His hidden gaze flickered between us. "Given that you both infiltrated this meeting without invitation, a measure of punishment is necessary. You will each face a dozen of our finest Talons in combat. Should you emerge victorious after slaying them all, you will have proven yourselves worthy of formal admission into our Court."

Before either of us could respond, the gold-clad woman—Madame Powers, presumably—burst indignantly to her feet once more, voice shrill and angry beneath her mask. "Wait just one damn moment! What happened to the real Greengrass sisters? Where are those Bitches?" she demanded furiously.

Morgana turned slowly to face the woman directly. Her emerald gaze glittered dangerously as she answered with chilling finality. "The Greengrass sisters now serve us," she stated calmly, a subtle undercurrent of threat coloring her smooth voice. She offered no further explanation, allowing her words to hang ominously in the silence that followed.

The leader inclined his head slightly, seemingly satisfied with Morgana's answer—or at least unwilling to push the matter further. Madame Powers, however, visibly bristled, obviously displeased. But clearly, she dared not openly challenge Morgana's authority in front of the entire Court.

Morgana turned slightly toward me, her lips quirking upward into an amused smirk as our gazes briefly met. 

Twelve Talons each? I smiled wickedly, my demon blood humming eagerly beneath my skin, hungry for the delicious taste of battle once more.

"Very well," Morgana said evenly, her voice smooth and utterly confident as she addressed the masked leader. "Bring us your Talons. My apprentice and I are more than ready to demonstrate our worthiness."

– Nightwing –

Dick was still lost deep within his own thoughts as he launched himself effortlessly across Gotham's shadow-drenched rooftops. His powerful legs propelled him swiftly from one darkened ledge to the next, his body moving with fluid grace born of long years training under Batman's unyielding guidance. Nightwing's mind raced, troubled by the persistent unease that clenched tightly at his chest.

Something wasn't right tonight—he could feel it. It was an intangible sense of impending danger, an almost supernatural instinct he had learned long ago never to dismiss. The others in the Bat family often joked it was Gotham itself whispering secrets directly into their ears, guiding them inevitably toward trouble whenever it stirred within the city's dark heart.

Alfred, ever the thoughtful sage of Wayne Manor, had always seemed to genuinely believe that Gotham itself somehow favored their strange little family. Dick usually brushed such fanciful ideas aside with a gentle smile—but on nights like tonight, he couldn't help but wonder if the old butler might truly be onto something after all.

He leaped once more, landing silently in a poised crouch atop the edge of a brick apartment building. His trained eyes scanned carefully across Gotham's shadowy streets, watching cautiously for any sign of movement, any hint of his quarry's presence.

 Raven drifted quietly alongside him, her slender figure encased in the violet cloak that rippled softly around her as she flew through the night air.

Dick was grateful Raven had agreed to join him tonight. Her calm presence was reassuring, especially now with his nerves so clearly on edge. Having a magic user of her caliber at his side was a huge advantage when dealing with powerful dark witches like Morgana and Amara. Especially since, as Dick painfully recalled, Amara's beauty and seductive charm had proven dangerously distracting during their first brief encounter.

He couldn't allow himself to make that same mistake twice.

Raven abruptly froze mid-air, her eyes widening sharply as her whole body stiffened in alarm. 

Dick skidded immediately to a halt, pivoting quickly to face her as concern tightened his chest. Despite the seriousness of the moment, Dick's gaze flickered involuntarily downward as Raven's sudden halt made her generously curved breasts jiggle enticingly beneath the form-fitting fabric of her tight leotard and cloak. He swallowed awkwardly, quickly forcing himself to look back up into Raven's startled violet eyes.

"What is it?" he asked urgently, his voice dropping low and serious as he moved swiftly to her side. "Did you sense something?"

Raven nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with cautious suspicion as she gazed downward toward Gotham's maze of shadowed alleys and towering skyscrapers. "Someone nearby is throwing around powerful magic," she murmured softly, her voice cool and composed despite the faint tension Dick detected beneath. "And it feels…wrong. Definitely dark magic."

Dick's muscles instantly tensed at her words as he moved protectively closer to Raven's hovering form. His gloved fists clenched tightly at his sides, jaw tightening in grim determination. 

"But wait," Dick frowned slightly as he glanced questioningly toward Raven's calm face. "You told me earlier you couldn't sense fellow magic users here in Gotham because there's already so much ambient dark magic saturating the city. How are you picking up on this now?"

Raven gave him a faint, wry smile, amusement briefly softening her usually stoic expression. "Maybe others can't," she declared. "But I'm not exactly like most magic users, Dick. I grew up bathing in darkness and chaos. I know its taste, its scent. I can sense it clearly even through Gotham's ambient corruption." She turned again, pointing sharply downward toward the grimy streets below. Her voice hardened once more, serious and focused as she narrowed her gaze thoughtfully. "Whoever it is, they're very close by…and underground, it seems."

Dick immediately understood, his instincts screaming clearly as realization flashed urgently across his mind. "It has to be Morgana and Amara," he declared firmly, the icy chill of certainty flooding his veins. "Come on—we have to move fast before whatever ritual they're performing down there is completed!"

Raven nodded swiftly as they headed down.

– Amara –

Okay, so maybe these damn Talons were a bit tougher than I'd expected.

I hissed sharply in pain as another barrage of bullets ripped into me, punching through Daphne's now-tattered blouse and tearing into my exposed skin. I felt every agonizing impact keenly, my flesh briefly erupting in sharp bursts of fiery agony. Damn, bullets fucking hurt, no matter how quickly my new enhanced regeneration closed the wounds afterward.

That blood ritual was a godsend right now!

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I watched with grim satisfaction as each useless round was pushed forcefully from my healing skin, clattering uselessly to the blood-slick stone floor. My enemies seemed briefly taken aback by the sight, momentarily hesitating as they reloaded.

I couldn't waste the opening. Lunging forward, I snarled viciously as blazing-hot claws erupted from my fingertips. With ruthless efficiency, I slashed deeply into the closest two Talons before they had a chance to dodge away. The smell of burning, undead flesh filled my nostrils, sharp and acrid, as my flaming claws carved effortlessly through muscle and bone alike. Both Talons collapsed heavily to the arena floor, their bodies shuddering grotesquely as dark magic and fire devoured their corrupted flesh.

But these Talons were persistent bastards—some twisted cross between undead corpses and elite assassins, driven mindlessly onward by powerful necromancy. 

Leaving anything resembling a head attached meant risking them getting back up again. Growling in frustration, I thrust both hands forward sharply, channeling my fiery mana with deadly intent.

Twin jets of molten-hot flame surged from my palms, blasting directly into each fallen Talon's skull. The magical fire consumed them completely in seconds, leaving only scorched bone and smoldering ash behind.

Breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Daphne's ruined blouse, I took a brief moment to glance sideways, quickly assessing Morgana's status. My jaw nearly dropped in stunned disbelief at the casual ease with which my powerful mentor had dispatched all twelve of her own opponents—each corpse lying burned, melted, or otherwise annihilated around her shapely figure. She stood calmly amidst the carnage, arms folded elegantly beneath her ample chest, emerald eyes glittering with playful amusement as she watched me struggle.

"You could help, you know!" I growled irritably, sidestepping a wild slash from another Talon's curved blade. The bastard's sword sliced dangerously close, cleanly shredding through the waistband of my borrowed skirt and leaving it perilously close to falling away entirely. 

Morgana chuckled softly at my predicament, entirely unconcerned by the very real threat these undead assassins posed. "Now, now, my dear apprentice," she teased lightly, smirking openly at my flushed, frustrated expression. "This little test is intended to demonstrate your prowess, not mine. Consider it good practice!"

Oh, how generous of her.

Growling again beneath my breath, I swiftly ducked beneath a savage thrust aimed directly at my exposed throat. These last three Talons had clearly adjusted their tactics after watching their companions fall—now keeping their distance, wary of my lethal claws and flames. One of them raised a heavy pistol again, clearly deciding ranged combat was the safer option.

Yeah, fuck that.

Before he could squeeze the trigger, I lunged forward aggressively, springing across the blood-soaked arena with succubus-enhanced speed. Daphne's blouse strained sharply across my bouncing breasts, buttons finally giving way beneath the forceful motion. Fabric tore loudly, fully exposing my ample, sweat-slick tits to the cool air of the arena, nipples immediately hardening from adrenaline and excitement.

Goddamnit—I'd never hear the end of this from Morgana. Not my fault Daphne's wardrobe couldn't handle heavy combat.

The sudden exposure momentarily distracted my attacker, his masked gaze flickering downward in unmistakable surprise and fascination. Typical man—zombie or not, the sight of a gorgeous naked woman was apparently enough to temporarily short-circuit his murderous brain.

It was all the opening I needed.

Slamming bodily into him, I knocked the gun from his gloved grip, sending it clattering uselessly to the floor. He staggered backward, arms flailing desperately as he fought to regain balance, but I gave him no opportunity. My fiery claws flashed forward mercilessly, slicing cleanly through his undead throat with ruthless precision. His masked head tumbled grotesquely away from his collapsing corpse, rolling heavily across the gore-soaked ground.

Two left.

The remaining Talons circled warily around me, their masked faces utterly unreadable yet clearly more cautious now. I breathed heavily, adrenaline surging hotly through my veins as excitement thrummed sharply within me, blending seamlessly with lingering pain. 

Unfortunately, Daphne's ruined skirt finally succumbed completely to its numerous tears, falling away entirely to pool uselessly at my feet. Now standing completely naked in front of Gotham's masked elites and Morgana herself, I felt heat briefly flood my cheeks in embarrassment. 

Great—just fucking perfect.

Yet I refused to show weakness, raising my chin proudly as I stared boldly at my undead opponents. If they were expecting modesty or embarrassment to distract me further, they'd be sorely disappointed. My curvy, nude body gleamed, glistening with sweat and smeared liberally with blood—both theirs and mine. Let them stare—let every last bastard watching enjoy the view.

"Come on then, boys," I purred seductively, offering a deliberately provocative smirk as I beckoned mockingly toward the remaining Talons. "Don't be shy—I promise I don't bite…much."

They hesitated briefly, perhaps sensing the seductive danger lurking beneath my flirtatious tone. Yet whatever dark magic controlled their minds quickly overrode caution, driving them aggressively forward once again.

My lips curled wickedly upward in eager anticipation, heart pounding as they charged. This was it—the delicious final climax of violence and bloodshed that my demonic nature craved so desperately.

I dodged swiftly between their frenzied strikes, claws lashing out viciously, fire surging eagerly to my fingertips. Hot blood splattered liberally across my bare skin.

One fell quickly beneath a brutal strike to his mask, flaming claws penetrating deeply into his brain. The final Talon lunged recklessly forward in desperation, sword flashing toward my exposed belly. Smirking darkly, I twisted sharply aside at the last second, allowing his momentum to carry him helplessly past me.

My tail and wings still remained carefully hidden beneath my skin—unwilling to reveal my full demonic nature openly just yet—but my claws were more than sufficient. With ruthless efficiency, I drove my fiery nails cleanly through his spine, severing his head in one fluid motion.

Panting heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly, I stood proudly naked amidst the carnage of my fallen opponents. Blood slicked every inch of my flawless skin, my heart raced, and my succubus instincts sang with fierce satisfaction.

Turning slowly to face Morgana, I smiled triumphantly, emerald eyes glittering with pride and adrenaline-fueled lust.

My mentor's expression mirrored my satisfaction, her emerald gaze dark and hungry as she took in my blood-smeared naked body appreciatively.

"Beautifully done, my dear apprentice," Morgana purred approvingly, stepping gracefully forward through the arena's gore to gently caress my flushed cheek. "You've more than proven your strength today."

I smiled softly, leaning gratefully into her soothing touch, pulse still pounding wildly from the thrill of combat. Around us, the assembled Court watched in stunned silence, clearly uncertain whether to applaud or flee in terror from the carnage we'd so casually wrought.

Frankly, I didn't much care either way. The only opinion that mattered was Morgana's—and from the heated, approving gleam in her emerald eyes, I knew I'd made her proud today.

The Court's masked leader seemed visibly shaken now, his posture far less confident, his voice wavering slightly behind his owl mask as he cleared his throat. He turned slowly toward Morgana and me, carefully keeping his tone respectful. "Congratulations on passing our test, Morgana le Fay and Amara Black," he said, sounding somewhat subdued. "You have both earned formal membership within the Court of Owls. Official invitations will be delivered to you at a later date."

I smirked slightly at the noticeable tremble in his voice. After the ruthless display we'd just put on, I wasn't surprised he was nervous. I imagined that beneath his elaborate ivory mask, his face was pale with genuine fear.

"I trust you'll have no difficulty finding a way to contact us?" Morgana replied coolly, a hint of amusement in her smooth voice.

"Of course," he answered quickly, clearly eager to avoid further confrontation. "Rest assured, we have our methods."

Just then, the leader paused, pressing a gloved hand to a hidden earpiece beneath his mask, apparently listening intently to something being communicated. I noticed immediately how he stiffened with tension as he processed the message.

"Unfortunately," he finally announced grimly, addressing the rest of the murmuring, nervous assembly, "this evening's gathering must come to an immediate close. Our scouts have spotted two heroes rapidly approaching the sewers. Nightwing and Raven of the Titans."

A hush instantly fell over the entire amphitheater, panicked whispers echoing softly as Gotham's elite started glancing nervously toward the exits. These pampered aristocrats were powerful politically and financially, sure, but physically confronting actual superheroes was obviously beyond their capabilities. They looked ready to bolt at the mere mention of Nightwing's name.

Plus we just killed a whole bunch of their guards, and I imagined making new talons would take a while. They didn't think that part through…

Morgana glanced sidelong in my direction, emerald eyes glittering mischievously as they swept over my naked, blood-slicked body, clearly amused at my predicament. A smirk tugged lightly at the corner of her seductive lips. "Well now," she purred teasingly, making absolutely no effort to conceal her delight. "It seems your handsome little boy-toy has found you again, Amara."

I scowled slightly at Morgana's smug teasing, crossing my arms self-consciously beneath my bare breasts as I pouted indignantly. "He's not my 'boy-toy', Morgana!" I protested defensively, cheeks flushing warm beneath her knowing gaze. "I literally met him once. Briefly. That hardly counts as anything."

Morgana merely chuckled softly at my embarrassment, clearly unconvinced. Ignoring my flustered protests entirely, she stepped gracefully forward, raising her voice confidently to address the visibly shaken Court leader and the surrounding elites. "In that case," she said smoothly, "my apprentice and I would be more than happy to intercept these heroes for you. We'll keep them occupied while the rest of you make your discreet exits." She paused meaningfully. "Of course, such assistance will mean you'll owe us both a substantial favor at some point in the future. After all—nothing in this world is ever truly free."

The leader hesitated only briefly before hastily nodding in agreement, clearly relieved at Morgana's generous proposal. "Very well," he declared quickly, eager to evacuate immediately. "Your terms are accepted, Lady Morgana."

Around us, Gotham's elite wasted no time at all, swiftly rising from their seats in an orderly yet clearly anxious fashion, hurriedly exiting the grand chamber through multiple hidden passages. Within moments, the vast amphitheater was nearly empty, leaving just Morgana and myself standing amidst the corpses of our slain Talon opponents.

I glanced down, frowning again at the bloody mess covering every inch of my nude body. "Ugh, Morgana—could you please conjure me something to wash off all this blood before we meet the heroes?" I complained irritably.

She gave an amused smirk and raised her slender hand casually in my direction. Before I could react, a cascade of freezing cold water poured suddenly over my head from nowhere, drenching me instantly. I squealed involuntarily, shivering as it dripped down my curves, swiftly washing away every last trace of blood and gore from my now soaked form.

"There," Morgana chuckled mischievously, openly admiring how the cold water made my nipples harden enticingly, sending a thrill of embarrassment and excitement rippling through me. "All cleaned up."

I shot her a reproachful glare, shivering slightly from the icy chill clinging to my exposed skin. "Very funny," I muttered sarcastically, hugging myself tightly as I gave her a pleading look. "Now can you please conjure me some clothes, too? It's freezing down here."

But Morgana merely tilted her head playfully, emerald eyes sparkling wickedly as she slowly licked her full, luscious lips, clearly enjoying every second of my predicament. "Oh, now why in Merlin's name would I ever go and do a thing like that?" she purred seductively, stepping closer and letting her gaze wander shamelessly over every enticing curve of my trembling nude body. "You're positively breathtaking exactly as you are, my dear apprentice. Besides, wouldn't you love for Nightwing to see you looking like this? If nothing else, he'll have a much harder time trying to hit you."

"And what about Raven?" I pouted in response…

…Oh, I guess Raven was gay or at least bisexual as well because she was blushing up a storm on her pale grey cheeks.

"Why are you completely naked?" Raven blurted out sharply, pointing an accusing finger at me as she hovered just above the street, her violet eyes wide with shock. She was clearly trying—and failing—to maintain her usual aloof composure. The heated blush that flooded her pale grey cheeks was unmistakable.

Nightwing stood frozen beside her, his mouth slightly agape, expression stunned beneath his domino mask. It was almost adorable, honestly—the way Gotham's famous hero had been rendered completely speechless at the mere sight of me standing confidently naked in the middle of the deserted street.

Morgana and I had barely made it out of the sewers and onto this abandoned Gotham avenue before Nightwing and Raven had intercepted us. 

Despite my nudity, I straightened my spine proudly, not bothering to cover myself. 

Morgana tilted her head playfully. "Heroes," she teased them. "It's impolite to ogle my apprentice so openly." She paused dramatically, the smirk widening wickedly. "Only I have that privilege—whenever and however I desire."

Her sultry words seemed to finally snap Nightwing out of his daze. He jolted visibly, flushing bright red beneath his mask as he quickly averted his gaze—though not quickly enough. I easily saw the unmistakable bulge now straining against the tight fabric of his costume.

I allowed myself a satisfied smile, gently biting my lower lip as my succubus instincts purred happily within my chest. How deliciously flattering. Even Gotham's most disciplined hero couldn't resist reacting to my irresistible demonic allure.

Nightwing recovered quickly, however, his embarrassment shifting rapidly into grim determination as he lifted a gloved finger accusingly in our direction. "Morgana, Amara—you're both under arrest!" he declared firmly, his voice strong despite the lingering flush upon his cheeks. "For the crimes of ritualistic human sacrifice and murder!"

I glanced sideways toward Morgana, watching closely as my mentor's seductive amusement instantly evaporated. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, expression darkening with genuine anger. "And how exactly," Morgana asked coldly, "did you come to learn about that particular ritual? Did a certain cowardly, flightless bird betray our trust? The Penguin certainly seems like a very brave dwarf indeed…"

A faint shiver ran down my spine at the icy venom in Morgana's tone. She was genuinely angry now. I could feel the dark aura radiating fiercely around her. Morgana despised betrayal above all else. 

And honestly, so did I.

I expected Nightwing to immediately come after me, so I tensed my muscles, preparing to dodge his inevitable first strike. But instead, his masked eyes narrowed grimly onto Morgana beside me, clearly assessing her as the far greater threat. Or perhaps the hero simply found it distasteful to strike at an entirely naked young woman.

Either way, I felt a faint pang of annoyance flare inside me. Was he really underestimating me after everything I'd done so far tonight?

Nightwing lunged sharply forward, his powerful body springing into motion as he raced toward Morgana. 

But before I could move to intercept, I heard Raven's voice echo sharply from my left side, dark and ominous words sending a chill racing down my spine.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!"

The spell hit me hard, erupting from Raven's outstretched hands as a seething wave of shadowy dark magic slammed forcefully into my naked body. I gasped sharply in surprise and pain, feeling myself violently hurled upward into the Gotham night sky.

Instinctively, my demonic traits immediately manifested, my small, bat-like succubus wings bursting swiftly from my bare back, flapping desperately to catch myself mid-air. My slender tail also slipped free, extending from just above my bare ass cheeks, flicking anxiously behind me as I hovered unsteadily above the deserted street below.

I quickly steadied my balance, heart pounding wildly as adrenaline surged hotly through my veins. Raven ascended rapidly toward me with her dark cloak billowing dramatically around her curvy figure as she approached. She clearly intended to follow up her attack, but the instant she drew close enough to get a proper look at me, she froze abruptly mid-flight, her eyes widening dramatically with unmistakable shock.

"You—you're part demon?" she exclaimed incredulously as she openly gaped at the delicate wings gently beating behind my shoulders and my slender succubus tail swaying behind me. Her startled gaze traced slowly over my nude body, lingering briefly between my thighs before hastily snapping back up to meet my eyes, cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of grey-purple in embarrassment.

I blinked briefly in confusion at her odd reaction—then understanding suddenly clicked into place inside my mind. Oh, right. Raven herself was famously half-demon, wasn't she? She'd clearly never expected to encounter someone else like her.

A playful smile curled my lips as I tilted my head slightly toward her. Raven's startled expression had already shifted subtly, her cautious aggression fading rapidly away, replaced by an openly curious, faintly awed look as she studied me carefully.

"Surprise?" I offered teasingly, allowing amusement to color my tone as I gently folded my arms beneath my bare breasts, striking an intentionally confident and seductive pose in the air.

Raven continued staring openly, biting nervously at her lower lip as she visibly hesitated, clearly uncertain how to proceed now. After a brief pause, she finally spoke again, voice softer this time, hesitant yet undeniably intrigued. "Who—or what—exactly are you?" Raven asked slowly, genuine curiosity flickering briefly in her guarded eyes.

I smiled softly at Raven's nervous curiosity. "My name's Amara," I said smoothly, holding her hesitant gaze. "And you're right—I'm part demon too. Though probably not the same kind as you."

"That's right," came a husky, amused voice from behind us. "Unlike you, Spawn of Trigon, she's a slutty little succubus. Although—" the voice paused, tinged with disbelief and open amusement, "—she's still somehow a virgin, which boggles my freaking mind."

If I hadn't been hovering midair, I would've jumped straight out of my skin. Raven jolted too, spinning around sharply. Her violet eyes widened as she took in the striking newcomer.

Floating effortlessly toward us was Mazikeen. Her breathtaking dark beauty was exactly as intimidatingly stunning as I'd remembered, her figure flawless and sensual, barely concealed beneath tight, revealing black leather. Her wings, though—those wings sent a shiver racing down my spine. They were twisted, burned, and mutilated—scarred remains of what must have once been majestic. Yet despite their ruined appearance, they still carried her with graceful ease.

"M-Mazikeen?" I stammered nervously, heart racing as the demoness drifted closer, her dark eyes fixed intently on me.

She tilted her head slightly, full lips pouting in exaggerated offense. "Amara," she murmured reproachfully, sounding genuinely hurt. "Why didn't you call me?"

A nervous blush spread across my cheeks. "I—I'm sorry," I admitted sheepishly. "Morgana destroyed the paper with your number."

Technically, that was true. But honestly, even without Morgana's intervention, I'd been terrified of contacting Lucifer Morningstar's infamous top lieutenant. Mazikeen had effortlessly exuded danger and seductive power when we'd met before. 

I wasn't sure I could handle such an intimidating presence on my own.

Thankfully, Raven interrupted, glaring suspiciously at Mazikeen. "Who are you?" she demanded sharply, clearly on edge. "And how the hell do you know about Trigon?"

Mazikeen merely chuckled softly, glancing briefly at Raven before her gaze drifted lazily downward toward the street below. "Oh, that's for me to know and you to dot dot dot," she teased wickedly, casually gesturing downward.

Confused, Raven and I both glanced toward the ground.

Beside Morgana, sprawled unconscious on the pavement, lay Nightwing.

I blinked in surprise. Morgana had actually spared the hero's life?

Perhaps it was because Nightwing technically wasn't officially League-affiliated? Whatever Morgana's reasoning, Raven didn't hesitate. Without a word, she shot rapidly downward.

She swiftly landed, grabbing Nightwing's unconscious form protectively. With a final wary glare upward toward us, Raven murmured her familiar spell and teleported them both safely away in a swirl of shadowy violet magic.

Now alone in the sky with Mazikeen, I swallowed nervously, feeling heat flood my cheeks under her appreciative stare. Her dark eyes slid slowly over every inch of my naked, hovering form, lingering openly on my full breasts, my gently curved hips, and the sensitive place between my trembling thighs.

A satisfied smirk curled Mazikeen's lips. "Mmm…you're even more beautiful than I imagined you'd be, Amara," she purred seductively, her tone low and filled with open admiration.

My blush intensified sharply at her bold compliment. Before I could respond, Mazikeen gracefully reached between her ample cleavage and pulled out another small slip of paper, offering it casually toward me.

"Don't lose this one," she instructed firmly, amusement glinting in her dark eyes. "I'd hate to have to track you down again personally…though I'm certainly enjoying the view."

My fingers trembled slightly as I accepted the scrap of paper, heart racing faster at the warmth radiating softly from Mazikeen's lingering touch. Then, just as abruptly as she'd appeared, Mazikeen vanished once more, leaving me hovering alone in the dark Gotham sky.

Still flushed and slightly shaken, I carefully descended back to the ground, landing lightly beside Morgana. My mentor quickly stepped closer, emerald eyes filled with genuine concern as she gently reached out, cupping my cheek tenderly. "Are you alright, my dear apprentice?" she asked softly, studying me closely. "I must admit—I certainly didn't expect that particular demoness to make another appearance."

"I'm fine," I assured her quickly, offering Morgana a reassuring smile as I leaned gratefully into her soothing touch. "Just surprised. Are you ready to head back home?"

Morgana nodded slowly, eyes glittering with subtle menace as she glanced briefly upward toward the shadowy rooftops. "Yes," she murmured thoughtfully. "We can deal with Penguin's foolish betrayal tomorrow. Tonight, however…" Her full lips curled into a deliciously wicked smirk, emerald eyes gleaming hungrily as she stepped even closer, pressing her voluptuous curves enticingly against my still-bare body. "Tonight we have two very beautiful blonde sisters waiting back home—two lovely young witches who owe us their heartfelt gratitude. I fully intend to ensure we both take full advantage of their…gratitude."

I shivered slightly beneath Morgana's seductive promise, my succubus blood already stirring eagerly within me at the tantalizing thought. Smiling softly, I slipped my slender hand into hers, anticipation fluttering warmly in my chest.

"Lead the way, Morgana," I purred seductively, desire and excitement coloring my tone as I leaned affectionately into her side. "Let's go claim our reward."

XXX